Deal with the Devil
by Alex Bailey Fairy Godmother
Summary: This is just a typical Harry's sister tale...or is it? Jenna is Harry Potter's twin sister, older by three minutes. They are sent to the Dursley's...but then what? Read to find out. PS, thank Jessi Duncan, whithout whom this story would never have gotten this far!
1. The Twins Who Lived

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.

The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.

Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the

Potters had a small twin son and daughter, too, but they had never even seen them. Those childern were another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with children like that.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair. None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.

At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. "Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.

It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar - a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen - then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light.

Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive - no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.

But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes - the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt - these people were obviously collecting for something... yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.

Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open- mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more.

He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.

He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard yes, their twins, Harry and Jenna."

Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it. He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking... no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a children called Harry and Jenna. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry. He'd never even

seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold. And as for his niece... It could've been Jennifer or Josie. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her - if he'd had a sister like that... but all the same, those people in cloaks...

He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.

"Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare,

"Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"

And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.

Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.

As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw - and it didn't improve his mood - was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes. "Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly. The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.

Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!"). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally.

When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:

"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"

"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early - it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."

Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters...

Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously.

"Er - Petunia, dear - you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"

As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.

"No," she said sharply. "Why?"

"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls... shooting stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today..."

"So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley.

"Well, I just thought... maybe... it was something to do with... you know... her crowd."

Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered

whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he

didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their children - they'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't they?"

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.

"What's their names again? Howard and Josie, isn't it?"

"Harry and Jenna. Nasty, common names, if you ask me."

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree." He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed.

While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.

Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did... if it got out that they were related to a pair of - well, he didn't think he could bear it.

The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting

thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs.

Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind... He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get

mixed up in anything that might be going on - he yawned and turned over - it couldn't affect them...

How very wrong he was.

Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.

A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed. Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."

He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, andclicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again - the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."

He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"My dear Professor, I 've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily. "Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no - even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls... shooting stars... Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent - I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had preciouslittle to celebrate for eleven years."

"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."

She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?" "It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A what?"

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of"

"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone -"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You- Know-Who' nonsense - for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name.

"I know you haven 't, said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because you're too - well - noble to use them."

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are - are - that they're - dead. "

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.

"Lily and James... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it... Oh, Albus..."

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know... I know..." he said heavily.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son and daughter, Harry and Jenna. But - he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy and girl. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry or Jenna Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke - and that's why he's gone."

Dumbledore nodded glumly.

"It's - it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little boy and girl? It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Harry or Jenna survive?"

"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."

Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring Harry and Jenna to their aunt and uncle. They're the only family they have left now, besides each other."

"You don't mean - you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore - you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son - I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry and Jenna Potter come and live here!"

"It's the best place for them," said Dumbledore firmly. "Their aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when they're older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! They'll be famous - a legend - I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Potter day in the future - there will be books written about Harry and Jenna - every child in our world will know their names!"

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy or girl's head. Famous before they can walk and talk! Famous for something they won't even remember! Don't you see how much better off they'll be, growing up away from all that until they're ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes - yes, you're right, of course. But how are the boy and girl getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry and Jenna underneath it- which was entirely possible. Dumbledore was quite a clever wizard, despite his age.

"Hagrid's bringing him."

"You think it - wise - to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to - what was that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky - and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild - long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sit," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got them, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir - house was almost destroyed, but I got them out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. I found Jenna under a pile of blankets. They fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of

blankets. Inside, just visible, were a baby boy and girl, both fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning, on Harry's forehead. Jenna's black hair was covering up different cut, almost a star.

"Is that where -?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "They'll have the scars forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well - give them here, Hagrid - we'd better get this over with."

Dumbledore took Harry and Jenna in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.

"Could I - could I say good-bye to them, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over the twins and gave them each what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it - Lily an' James dead - an' poor little Harry and Jenna off ter live with Muggles -"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid the two children gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Jenna's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundles; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out, just as easily as he'd put out the streetlights.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall - Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply. Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.

"Good luck, Harry and Jenna," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect

astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside

him, the other around his sister and they slept on, not knowing they were special, not knowing they were famous, not knowing they would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that they would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by their cousin Dudley... They couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry and Jenna Potter - the boy and girl who lived!"

* * *

Me: Is it finally over? I thought it would never end! Mainly, I just copied this word for word from the book, and added Jenna.

Jenna: Hey! I'm right here you know.

Me: Oh, sorry, Jen. Anywho, that's the first chapter of _Deal with the Devil. _I chose the title totally randomly, and thought it was cool, so no knocking!

Harry: On what? The story? Oh, by the way, she doesn't own Harry Potter. The wonderful J.K Rowling does. Sorry, Leia!

Me: Oh, that's fine, Harry. Just watch your back. I might pair you with Lavender! Bye Bye!


	2. Meet the Potters

Me: Are we ready for the next chapter?

Jenna: Why would we even be here if we weren't?

Me: I meant the readers! You've lived this.

Harry: True. I hate the Dursleys.

Me and Jenna: We know, Harry!

Harry: Sheesh, just thought I'd put it out in the open.

Me: Oh, just shut up and let Jenna do the disclaimer.

Jenna: OOOOH! Goody!

Me: Jenna, actually do the disclaimer!

Jenna: Right! Leia does not own Harry Potter! She only owns me, and any other characters you might not recognise from the amazing works of J.K Rowling!

Me: Oh, so childish, after all this time.

Harry: Haven't I told you?

Jenna:Hey!(reaches for wand. Hexes fired in all directions. Manage to avoid)

Me: I think I managed to avoid a fight. On with the story!

"Get up! Now!" my aunt yelled at us, which was usually the first sound Harry and I heard each morning. Harry groaned. I turned the light on and found my clothes; a plain dress and my old trainers. At least I got clothes that actually fit me. Harry only had Dudley's hand-me-downs. I found a headband and put it in my annoyingly curly black hair, to keep it out of my eyes. Harry and I stepped out of the cupboard and made our way to the kitchen s slowly as possible without rousing the wrath of the Dursleys.

Our cousin, Dudley, was sitting at the table, surounded by a mountain of gifts. I remember. How could I have forgotten? Today's his stupid birthday. He usually got at least forty presents, while we barely got a thing. I think last year all we got was a pair of socks.

"Finish the breakfast, and try not to burn anything, while I shower," Aunt Petunia said.

"Hurry up, bring my coffee, boy!" Vernon barked.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said.

By the time she was back, I was serving up pancakes, and Harry was dolling out some eggs and bacon.

We watched as Dudley counted his presents.

"36?! That's two less than I had last year!" he yells.

"Well, you didn't count this one from Marge," says Petunia.

"Okay, thirty seven then," Dudley said, flustered. Harry and I were quickly eating our food, just in case he flipped the table on it's side. Believe me, it's happened before.

"Okay," Petunia began. Obviously, she sensed trouble as well. "Here's what we're going to do. While we're at the zoo today, we're going to buy you two more presents." Petuia said.

Every year, the Dursleys took Dudley and one of his goon friends out. Hamburger restaurants, fairs, and the like. This time, the choice was the zoo. Harry and I never got to go. They always send us to Mrs. Figg's. She's an old lady who lives over on Magnolia Crescent. I do not like it. Her living room smells like cabbages. And to make things even worse, she makes us look at pictures of all her cats. And when I say all, I mean all. Even the ones that are dead. Did I mention her house smells like cabbages? Rotted ones.

Just before we had to go, the house phone rang. Aunt Petunia answered it, her frown growing deeper with each word she said. When she hung up, she ddin't look happy at all. "She can't take them, Vernon."

Which is how, half an hour later, Harry and I were in the backseat of the Dursleys car. I happened to be squashed between Harry and Dudleys' freind Piers. But I wasn't going to complain. At least we got to be somewhere that wasn't our cupboard, school, or Mrs. Figg's.

Vernon pulled us aside just before we got into the car.

"I'm warning you now, boy. If anything odd happens, you'll eb in that cupboard for the rest of the week! That goes for you as well, girl."

Our luck didn't seem to run out that day. We stopped for ice cream at a vendors cart, but before they could hurry us off, the lady behind the counter asked what we wanted. The Dursley's bought us cheapy lemon ice pops. They didn't tast half bad. I always did like lemons.

When we stopped for lunch, Dudley complained (loudly, might I add?) that his Chocolate Attack didn't have enough ice cream on it. Harry and I were allowed to split the rest. And there was quite a lot left. I personally thought that if Dudley ate all the ice cream that was on his Chocolate Attack now, he'd be the one with the attack. A heart attack.

After lunch, Dudley and Piers wanted to visit the snake house. The pair of them easily found the largest snake in the place. It was asleep. I woudn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom. And Dudley and Piers banging on the glass wasn't helping. I thinkk it was getting a bit annoyed.

"Leave him alone, Dudley!" I said.

"What are you going to do, huh Jenna? You gonna make me?" Dudley challenged me. I wasn't scared. I could easily outrun him. I can even beat Harry. I was on the school's basketball team. We were...well to say the least, we were pretty good. I was a bit surprised that the Dursleys let me try out, and even more surprised that I got a place on the team. I guess it kept me out of the house. Girls usually didn't make the team. At least there was somewhere I was valued.

"No, I'm just asking you to stop annoying the poor snake before it tries to eat you. And don't worry, I won't stop it when it does," I said to Dudley.

"It's boring, anyhow. C'mon, Piers." Dudley said to Piers, and the pair walked off to annoy some other poor snake.

"I know how it feels," Harry said. The snake nodded, and then gave a wink.

I rubbed my eyes, to make sure I wasn't dreaming. I couldn't be. I wouldn't dream about snakes. I hate snakes. Almost as much as I hate the Durskeys, or Dudley's friends...

"Did you understand him?" I asked the snake. "Do you understand me?" The snake gave another nod. And the look on it's face couldn't have been plainer than if he'd written it down or spoken it: I get that all the time.

"Where are your parents? Have you always lived here?" Harry asked the snake. The snake gave a nod to the side of the cage. There was a sign: Brazilian Boa Constrictor. This specimen was bred in the zoo.

"Oh, you're from Brazil. Was it nice there?" Harry asked. I thought that was a bit imprudent. If he'd just read the whole sign, he'd have known. I also thought it was a bit rude to call it a specimen. Well, I guess it was rued of me to keep calling it the snake. But I didn't know

it's name. Should give it a name? Anderson? Yeah. I watched as his brain caught up.

"That's us too. We're orphans. Our aunt and uncle hate us. That was our cousin who was banging on the glass," I said to the Anderson. " And this dunce is my twin brother."

Just then I guess Dudley had seen Anderson was moving.

"Mum! Dad! Look at this snake, see what it's doing!" he yelled. He ran over to the cage, knocking Harry and I to the side to get a better look. And that's when it happened.

One second, Dudley was up against the glass, ogling Anderson. The next, the glass had vanished, and he was falling into the enclosure! Anderson slowly slithered out. People noticed, and there was a lot of screaming. But, during all the pandemonium, I swear I heard Thankssss, amiga. Brazil, here I come! And the voice sounded exactly like I had imagined Anderson would sound.

As I assumed, that quickly put an end to our day. Vernon rushed us to the car and drove for home. I couldn't believe that we might actually not get in trouble for this. Until Piers said, " Harry and Jenna were talking to the snake, weren't you?"

And of course, that was the end of our good day. As soon as we got in the house, Vernon grabbed our ears.

"What happened?!" He demanded.

"I don't know!" Harry yelled.

"One second the glass was there, and the next there wasn't! It was like magic!" I yelled.

Vernon shoved us into the cupboard. He locked it.

"There's no such thing as magic!" He said viciously.

We'd be lucky if we got any meals for the week, let alone out of the cupboard. Harry and I could get around this, of course. We waited until the others were asleep, picked the lock, and snuck into the kitchen and got something to eat. Usually we did this most nights, seeing as the Dursleys didn't give us very much to eat. Harry and I were both rather small for our age, almost eleven. I weighed just over ninety pounds. Harry was a bit more, weighing in at 103 pounds. This was especially diminuitive compared to Dudley. He was just a month older than us, but he weighed about two hundred pounds. We were silent, not alerting the Dursleys.

As soon as we got back in our cupboard, I thought. Did that snake really talk to us, or did I imagine it? Where in the world did that glass go? And most important, why did the Dursleys hate us so much?

Me: Yeah! Not as long as the first chapter, it's about quarte that. But informative.

Jenna: Right! It tells relationship between Harry and I. By the way, I can still fell the pain from that ear pulling.

Harry: Yeah, me too. Well, I had better finish that Charms essay.

Jenna: Bye, Harry. (Harry exits. whispering) Is there any hope for him?

Me: I dunno. Maybe I can save him.


	3. Hagrid

Me: Awesome! Two chapters in one day! Aren't I awesome?

Jenna: Of course you are. You had the sense to create me!

Harry: And that's a good thing?

Me: It sure is. Would you rather be alone at the Dursleys every summer? Honestly, get some brains Harry!

Harry: No, don't do that!

Me: Then be good!

Hermione: Not much chance of that happening, Leia. By the way, do I come in in this chapter?

Me: Sorry, not yet 'Mione. I sweat we see your awesomeness in chapter...hahaah! Not going to say! But I won't make you hate Jenna, I promise

Hermione: Leia does not own the wondorous Harry Potter series. That idea goes straight to Ms. J. K Rowling! If Leia did, I don't know where we'd be.

Me: Well, you'd be...I don't know. Continuing ! On to chapter three!

The following month was normal. Or as normal as it got at the Dursleys. One day,I woke up and dressed as I normally did, quickly finding my headband, and elbowing Harry on accident.

"Ow, Jen! Watch it!" He shouted.

"Sorry, Harry," I said. Harry found his glasses. This was usually a way for me to get back at him. If he annoyed me, I just hid his glassed until he apologized(sometimes not even then). And he can't do the same because I don't wear glasses. It is funny watching him grope around. His eyesight really is the worst.

While I was serving breakfast, I heard the mail hit the floor.

"Get the mail, girl!" Vernon said to me. I went to the hallway and saw four letters on the ground. I scanned them. A bill. A postcard from Aunt Marge. A letter for me. A letter for Harry. Hang on, I thought. A letter for us? No one ever wrote us. Not even for library fines. That's because I always turned in my books, and Harry rarely read, so that wasn't a problem. I looked at the one for me.

Miss J. Potter

The Cupboard Under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

The other was the same, except it was for Mr. H. Potter, otherwise known as my nearly identical twin brother, Harry. I knew there was no way the Dursleys would let us see what was in them, so as I passed, I slipped them under the cupboard door.

"Here you are," I said, taking the postcard and the bill to Vernon. "Harry, are we going to the library still?" I asked.

"I didn't know we-" He began, but I gave him a look, and he caught on." I mean, yeah, let's go." He corrected himself, following me out of the kitchen. I grabbed the letters, and we hurried out the door.

"What is it Jenna? What do you have to talk to me about?" He asked as we walked towards the park.

"This," I said to him, bringing out the letters.

He examined it. "How do they know we sleep in the cupboard? Jenna, this is a little freaky. Have you read yours?"

"Not even touched it," I said. Harry examined the purple seal. It was purple, with a badger, a lion, a snake, and a raven surrounding a letter H. The wrting was in bright pink.

" On three?" He asks.

"On three. One...two...three!" We ripped the seal and opened the letter. It was on heavy parchment.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, first class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump,

International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term beginson September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall.

Minerva McGonagall.

Deputy Headmistress.

"No way this is real," Harry says to me.

"Yeah," I agree. "It's probably a prank or something."

The rest of the day goes smoothly, and neither of us mentions the letters. After all, it had to have been a total coincedence that the day we had to reply was also my and Harry's eleventh birthday, and also happened to be the next day.

When we got home at about one o'clock in the afternoon, we were greeted by a very unhappy Petunia and Vernon, Dudley looked scared out of his wits, and there was a fourth person who looked very excited. This man also happened to be about ten feet tall, with a very unruly black beard. It made my hair look tame.

"Hello there Harry, Jenna," said the giant man. "Oh, got a little summat fer yeh. I mighta sat on it once on me way here, but I guess it'll taste just as well." he took out a box. Harry opened it. The icing read, Hapee Birthdai Harry and Jenna, in green icing.

I wasn't about to eat anything a giant stranger offered me.

"Who are you? " I asked. He looked startled. "Oh, I didn't mean to be rude, sir."

"Not at all, Jenna. Don' worry about that, I wasn' thinking about you. I was thinking of meself. So sorry not to've told yeh. I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. Yeh can call me Hagrid, Gamekeeper. Yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, I reckon." said the man.

"Um, no. Sorry." Harry said.

"What? Yeh telling me they don' know nothing about… about nothing?" He demanded of the Dursleys.

"Wait a minute," I said." We can do figures and stuff like that."

"Didn't yeh wonder where yer parents learned it all?" Hagrid asked

"All what?" I asked.

"Yer wizards, you two. Well, since Jenna's a girl, she's a witch."

"Whoa, I'm no witch. I'm plain Jenna Potter. And these people hate Harry and me," I said.

"Well, 'plain Jenna', did yeh ever make anything happen? When yeh were angry or scared?" He asked me. When I didn't respond, he gave Harry and I knowing looks.

There was that one time. Once, Petunia had used the straightener too hot, and it burnt my hair. I was so mortified, knowing everyone would tease me about having burnt hair. The next morning, my hair was it's usual unburnt self. I got two weeks in the cupboard for that, despite the fact thai I couldn't explain how it had happened.

"They're not going!" Vernon said.

"You knew? You knew?!" harry demanded.

"Of course," Petunia said scoffingly. " How could you have not been, my 'perfect' sister being what she was. Mother and father were so proud. And then she met that Potter, and had you two, and I knew you'd be the same. And then she got her self blown up, as if she didn't deserve it, and we got landed with you."

"Blown up?! You said they died in a car crash!" I yelled.

"Car crash? A car crash kill Lily an' James Potter?! It's an outrage! A scandal!" Hagrid said maddeningly.

"We had to say something," Petunia said.

"They're not going! He's going to Stonewall High, and she's going to Harrid's Preparatory, and they'll be glad for it!" Vernon said again. They were going to send me to the local girls secondary school, while Harry went ot the boys. Last week, Petunia'd been dying some of Dudley's old suits gray for Harry to wear. I had to have new, but it was reluctantly that Petunia had taken me.

"Oh, I suppose you, a great Muggle, is gonna stop 'em? "

"Muggle?" Harry wondered.

Non- magic folks. They've had their names on ever since they were born! They're goin' to the best school of magic there is, and the best Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore!" Hagrid said.

"No crackpot old fool is going to teach them magic tricks!" Vernon bellowed.

"Never insult Albus Dumbledore in front of me." Hagrid said in a deadly voice. Suddenly, he turned the pink umbrella he had on Dudley, giving him a pig's tail. The Dursley's ran outside, and I heard the car engine rumble. "I'd appreciate it if yeh didn' mention that at Hogwarts. I'm not really supposed to do magic."

Harry nodded. I was still laughing from the sight of seeing Dudley with a pig's tail.

"Of course," I said, once I'd gained my composure, straightening up.

"We best be off." Hagrid said, opening the front door. "Unless you'd rather stay, o' course," he said sarcastically.

Harry and I exchanged looks. This was our chance to escape the Dursleys. Harry grabbed his overshirt and I slipped on my trainers, and we followed Hagrid.

"Maybe we kin get yeh a room at the Leaky Cauldron fer the summer," Hagrid said. I didn't know what that happened to be, but anywere's better than here.


	4. Diagon Alley

Me: So...Jenna and Harry are out of the Dursley's place, and about to come face to face with the magical world in Diagon Alley

Jenna: Thank Merlin!

Harry: I've gotta agree with you there, Jen. They're simply horrid!

Hermione: Oh,yeah? Try handling my neigbors!

Me: Hagrid? Disclaimer, please?

Hagrid: Sure, Jenna. Jenna don' own Harry Potter. I think she'd let me keep Norbert!

Me: Aw, thanks Hagrid! Okay, here's chapter four!

Once we arrived in London, we followed Hagrid until we saw a sign with the words The Leaky Cauldron. The place that Hagrid ahd mentioned. Inside, I noticed a man with a deep purple turban.

"Harry, Jenna, this is yer Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Quirrel. How are yeh, Quirinus?" Hagrid said, introducing us to the man.

"P-p-potters. How w-wonderful to meet you," said Quirrel. His stutter was annoying. We did not talk long with him, and went behind the pub. All that was there was a couple trash cans. Hagrid began tapping some of the bricks.

"Hagrid, how do all those people in there know us? They were staring," Harry asked.

"More'n my job's worth to tell yeh just now Harry. Orders are to get yer school things and then get yeh back. I wrote Professor Dumbledore on the way here." Hagrid said. Suddenly, the bricks began to move. "Welcome to Diagon Alley."

It looked like a market, but it was no market that I'd ever seen before. People in robes everywhere, buying odd things, saying odd things. I heard 'I need to get some more unicorn hair' and ' Denmark totally flattened France last week. They'll win the Quidditch Cup.'

"Got yer letters?" Hagrid asked. We got them out. "Good. Yer list's in there."

I got it out and scanned it.

First yeat students will require:

Three sets plain black work robes

One plain pointed hat(black) for everyday wear

One pair protective gloves(dragon hide or similar)

One winter cloak(black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all students clothes should carry name tags

Course Books

All students should have a copy of:

The Standard Book of Spells, Grade one by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self- Protection by Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment

1 wand

1 cauldron(pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

Students may also bring an owl OR cat OR toad

First, we went to Gringotts Bank. As we entered, I saw a plaque on the door

Enter stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed

For those who take but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure which was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware,

of finding more than treasure there

"Yeh'd be mad ter try to rob it," Hagrid said. "I heard there's dragons near the high security ones. Blimey, I'd like a dragon!"

"You'd like a dragon?" I asked incredulously.

"O' course! Seriously misunderstood creatures, dragons are," Hagrid defended. I preferred to keep away from things that could burn me alive.

I almost shrieked when I saw the bank tellers. They were goblins! Hagrid asked them to take us to two vaults: 687 and another one which was mysterious, since Hagrid didn't say, the teller seemed to know. 687 was full of coins. Except these were about twice the size of normal coins. Hagrid said they were all Harry's and mine. There were gold coins, which were the biggest, and Hagrid said they were called Galleons. They were worth the most. The slver Sickles came next. Then the bronze Knuts. I filled a small sack full of the coins. Then we got back on the cart. The cart was crazy. It went super fast, and took sharp turns. Hagrid looked a bit green.

The vault that was so secret was number 713. And it was empty. Well, except for a small grubby brown sack. Hagrid collected it, and so it was empty now.

"Mind if I go to the Leaky Cauldron fer a quick drink? I hate them Gringotts carts!" Hagrid asks. We nod, and he points us in the direction of Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions.

"Hogwarts?" asked Madam Malkin, a pretty woman with blonde hair up in a bob, and deep violet robes. We nod. "Come on. I've got another one back here already."

Harry and I follow her along to where a blonde boy is standing on a stool being fitted. Well, it was actually almost white. He seemed like a big git, and our conversation proved it.

"Who are your parents?" is the first thing he asks us.

"They were a witch and a wizard, if that's what you mean." I say.

"Good. Do you know what House you'll be in?" he asks.

Harry and I shrug noncomittaly. I have no idea what he's talking about, but I'm not about to admit that to this kid.

"Well, no one really knows until the Sorting, but my family's been in Slytherin for ever so long." he says. Whatever Slytherin is, I make a mental note to avoid that place at all costs.

And from that point in the conversation, I tune out until the boy leaves.

Once we have our robes, we go to Flourish and Blotts, a bookstore. We found all the books on our list there. At the Apothecary, Hargid asked for a basic potion making kit, and let me tell you, there were some pretty odd things in that. At a different store, we found our brass scales and crystal phials.

"We still need wands," I say, after we leave the Magical Menagerie, which we'd decided to explore. So we made our waydown the road to Ollivanders Wand Shop: makers of fine wands since 382 bc.

Ollivander was an old man. He had to have been at least 75 or 80, but he immediately began to work.

"Which is your wand arm, Miss Potter?" he asks me. "Yes, I knew your parents. Finer people you couldn't find anywhere."

"Um...I'm left handed,sir," I said.

"Exactly the same thing you mother said when she entered this shop twenty years ago."

This was a source of comfort. I was glad to have this knowledge that there was a similarity between my mother and I, even if it is as trivial as being left handed. I held up my left arm. Ollivander begins to measure me, from finger to palm, finger to wrist, wrist to elbow, elbow to shoulder, and the whole length. I realized with a start that Ollivander wasn't holding the tape measure. He was on a ladder looking at boxes. The masure was on it's own.

"Here, try this. Cherry, unicorn hair, 10½ inches. Very springy. This was a good wand for charms." Ollivander says, giving me a wand to try. "Well, wave it!"

I give it a small wave. Several boxes fly off the shelves, narrowly missing Harry and Ollivander.

"Absolutely not." says Ollivander. He hands me another. "Maple, dragon heartstring, 9¾ inches. Good for Defense Against the Dark Arts."

As soon as I touch the Maple wand, I feel… I don't know how to describe it. A warmth? A glowing? I could have almost sworn I felt a breeze rustle my hair.

"Odd. Very odd indeed." Olivander muses, while searching for a wand for Harry to try.

"What?" I ask.

"The dragon who gave your core gave another. It was bought just last week. I wouldn't be surprised if you met her next month," he says.

Harry's takes a bit longer. I can feel his discouragement. But finally, Ollvander seems to come to a decision. He hands Harry a wand made of holly and a phoenix feather core. He waves it, and several red sparks fly off it.

"Most curious," Ollivander muses.

"What's curious?" Harry asks.

" The phoenix who gave your feather gave another. One other. It is curious that you, Mr. Potter, are destined to have this wand, when it's twin...gave you that scar."

Once we paid for the wands, Hagrid found us and took us to Eyelops Owl Emporium. Harry found a snowy white one, and he named it Hedwig. I found a tiny red barn owl and it wsnamed it Romy, after a character in one of the best books ever, School Spirits.

"I spoke to Dumbledore, and he says yeh kin stay at the Leaky Cauldron fer the summer. He said yeh have to go back next summer though," says Hagrid, as we are eating ice cream cones.

So we went to Rm. 12, which was where we were staying, and went straight to bed.


	5. Going to Hogwarts

Me: Hmm, I wonder who it was that bought the twin to Jenna's wand?

Hermione: Is it me?

Me: Well, that'd be giving away the plot, so I won't tell you.

Hermione: Phooey! I wanna know! I wanna know!

Jenna: I think she's going to say in this chapter, 'Mione.

Me: Jenna, just do the disclaimer so we can get on with the story.

Jenna: Sure thing! Leia does not own Harry Potter. It's rights and affiliates go to Joanne Rowling!

The next day was my eleventh birthday. Of course, it was Harry's too. We went out and got some ice cream at Florean Fortesque's Ice Cream Parlor. Hagrid sent a box full of candies. There was taffy, lollipops, and gummies. It wasn't much, but compared to our past birthdays, it was the best I had ever had.

The month passed by relatively uneventfully. Before Hagrid had left, he had given us each an envelope, and said it was our train ticket. We had to go to King's Cross Station, and the train we had to catch was at Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

When we got there, there was no platform nIne and Three Quarters. There was nine, and ten, but no 9 ¾. We even asked a bobby, but he said we were wasting his time.

"We're going to be late!" Harry said. "The train leaves at eleven!"

Suddenly, a large family passed. There were four boys, a little girl, and their mother.

"Filled with Muggles…" I heard the mother saying "What's the platform again?"

"9¾!" said the little girl excitedly.

"Thank you, Ginny," said the mother.

"Come on," Harry said to me." Excuse me, but can you tell us-"

"How to get onto the platform?" sha asked. We nod. "First year?" Again, we nod." Don't worry, Ron too." She gestures to the youngest looking boy. I notice that all of them have bright red hair, although, the woman's hair was thickly streaked with gray. "All you've got to do is run straight at the barrier between nine and ten."

There were two who looked like twins. "Fred, you first!" their mother says.

"I'm not Fred!" says one of the boys, whom I guess she was adressing.

"Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother!" says the other, whom I now guess is Fred.

"Sorry, George," she says. George rushes up and begins to run at rhe barrier.

"Joking! I am Fred!" says the one I thought was George, running at the wall. The two of them ran at the barrier. I expected them to crash into it, but it appeared that they ran through it. The others followed: The mother and girl, Ginny. The the one who looked oldest. Harry went after that. Finally, it was just the younger boy and I.

"Er...you go first," I say to him. So Ron ran at the barrier, and disappeared.

It looked solid to me. I was still skeptic, even though I'd seen the others do it with no trouble. But I ran at it, expecting the blow any second.

I opened my eyes to see a scarlet train with Hogwarts Express on the side of it. I found Harry and we went to put up our trunks. While we were trying to find it, we ran into the twins.

"Hang on!" I said. "Before you try t trick me, who's who, and don't trick me like you did your mother."

"I'm Fred and he's George Weasley, at your service," said one of them.

"Need help there?" George asked, noticing us struggling with our trunks.

"Uh, thanks," Harry said awkwardly. The twins helped us get our trunks on the train. Harry and I went to find a compartment. We managed to find a place that was empty. I was glad, because I didn't want to have to reveal to people how much I didn't know.

The boy we met on the platform came into the compartment.

"Can I sit? Everywhere else is full," He asks us.

"Sure, have a seat," I said, gesturing to the empty seats.

"What's your name again? I don't remember," Harry asks.

"Ron Weasley. What's yours?" He asks us.

"I'm Jenna Potter, and that's my dunce of a twin brother, Harry." I said. Suddenly, Ron gaped at us.

"Are you really? Can I see your scar?" He asked. We moved our hair aside so he could see. "Cool!"

"How do you know us?" Harry asked him.

"You mean...you don't know?" He asked, astonished.

"Well, we were raised by Muggles," I said. "They hate us. They knew about all this, and they didn't say a word about it in the ten years we were there."

"Well, I can tell you," Ron said. " You-Know-Who came to where you lived, and killed your parents. Then he tried to kill you two, but something happened, and he killed himself."

"Who is You-Know-Who?" Harry asked.

Ron lowered his voice to a whisper. "Voldemort. Now don't make me say it again."

After a while, a woman with a food trolley came along the corridor. She poked her head in the compartment.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?" she asks us.

"No, I'm set," Ron says, sheepishly holding up a stack of squashed sandwiches.

I remembered Harry and I had plenty of money, and it didn't look like Ron wouldn't be grateful for a bit of sweets.

"We'll take the lot!" I say. I end up buying at least three of everything, because I didn't recognise anything on it. There was Chocolate Frogs, Droobles Best Blowing Gum, Pumpkin Pasties, and lots more. My favorite was the licorice wands. There was also Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"Be careful with those, mate. They mean every flavor. George swears he had a bogey flavored one once!" Ron said to me.

I grabbed one and examined it closely. It looked like it could have been strawberry. But then again, it could have been blood or something. I decided it was safe, and popped it in my mouth. Phew! Strawberry. I got another one. It was white. I decided it was marshmallow, and risked it.

"Ugh! Soap!" I cry, spitting it out all over Ron.

Harry and Ron burst out laughing. I did not risk another one.

The Chocolate Frogs were interesting. I pulled off the tab to open it, and when I moved the wrapper, it jumped onto the window and out the gap.

"Pity, that. They've only got one good jump in them to begin with!" Ron said. But I was already over it. There was a card on the bottom. Mine was Calypso.

"I've got Dumbldore!" Harry said. I looked back at Calypso, and she disappeared!

"Where'd she go?" I said, bewildered.

"Well, you can't expect her to stay there all the tim, now can you?" Ron said, as if that should have been obvious.

"Muggle photos don't move," I said drily.

Just then, the compartment door opened, and a girl with very curly brown hair entered.

She sighs, "Have any of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville Longbottom lost it." she says. "Sorry to barge in. I'm Hermione Granger. You?"

"Jenna," I say. "That's my brother Harry, and that's our mate Ron Weasley," I say to her. "Hey, need some help? I can help you find that toad," I offer.

"Sure," she says.

"See you later, Harry, Ron," I say, and follow her out of the compartment. I guess my hair moves to show my scar, and Hermione notices.

"Jiminy Cricket! I know who you are," Hermione informs me.

"Seems like everyone does," I mutter, as we keep asking around if anyone has seen the toad.

"Have you tried any spells yet?" she asks me.

"Um...no, I haven't," I say.

"Oh. I bet you'll be good. I've only tried a few simple ones, but they've all worked. Want to try?" she asks.

"Why not?" I say. We go to the compartment where we put our trunks, and I grab my maple wand. Hermione gets hers.

"What's yours made of?" I ask her.

"Mine's vine wood and a dragon heartstring. What's yours?" she asks.

"Maple and dragon heartstring. That's odd. We have the same core. Ollivander told me that the same dragon that gave mine was bought just a week before mine. When did you go?"

"July 23rd. Why?" she asks.

"I went the week after that. July 30th. You thining what I'm thinking?" I ask ominously.

"Yes. I think our wands are twins. How odd."

Eventually, we give up, and head back to the compartment where Harry and Ron were. I invited Hermione to sit with us.

Soon, it began to get dark, and so we put on our uniforms. Hagrid told us we'd ties to match our house colors. But I still didn't know what a House was.

"Ron, have you any idea what a House is?" I ask.

"There's four: Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Slytherin. They all value different morals. Ravenclaws are smart, Hufflepuff's for hardworkers, Gryffindor's for brave people, and Slytherin is for cunning people. I like to think of it as the house for people who go evil. Not one of the wizards who went bad have ever been in a house besides Slytherin," Ron said.

"I think I'd like to be either in Ravenclaw or Slytherin," Hermione commented. I agreed.

"Yeah, I'm sure you both will be Ravenclaws,"Harry said. "I don't think I fit anywhere. Don't they have a house for normal people?"

Shortly, the train stopped. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I stepped off the train. I had the feeling that Harry and Ron didn't really like Hermione. I hoped I could help them. I heard the people around us whispering 'Are they?' s and 'Do you think they ahve the scars?'

"Firs' years over here! Firs' years! To me!" We heard Hagrid calling out. "We're going up in the boats. No more'n four ter one!"

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I got a boat together. As soon as everyone was in, the boats moved.

When we passed the bridge, every one of us gave a gasp. There was Hogwarts! It was huge! I think it was twice the size of Buckingham Palace.


	6. The Sorting gone haywire

Me: Aren't you proud of me? I've managed to avoid Mary-Sue-dom! I think. I'm not exactly sure what a Mary Sue is. I looked it up, and it wasn't very clear.

Hermione: I knew it was me! Didn't I say?! Didn't I?

Me: Oh, brother!

Ron: Thanks, Leia! You gave her a bigger head than she already has!

Me: Shut up! I was debating mot letting you be hurt in the chess match, but now...not so sure.

Ron: Were you?

Me: Of course, not! That would totally ruin the plot!

Harry: Good. I don't need an extra person to protect

Me: Ron, please do the disclaimer before I hex the git!

Ron: Don't want that. Okay, Leia does not own Harry Potter, and this is not a copywrite infringement, since she's not making profit. Bloody hell, that was a mouthful!

Hermione: Charming, Ronald.

Me: Stop it!(Both point wands) Okay! Just read, and keep the flames to a minimum.

Hermione: Ready with Aguimenti.

Me: Thanks Hemione. Youre a lifesaver! Here's chapter five!

The boats rowed us all the way to the entrance. We followed Hagrid into the castle and up a large flight of stairs. At the top of the landing was a severe-looking woman with emerald green robes and black hair pulled into a tight knot under her pointed hat. I made a quick note not to cross her.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid says to her.

"Thank you, Hagrid," says the woman, and Hagrid walks off. "Hello. I am Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor House, and Transfiguration Professor. I will be back momentarily," she says to us, sweeping out of the landing.

"So it's true then?" A voice that is vaguely familiar says. "Harry and Jenna Potter are finally beginning Hogwarts?" A boy struts toward us. I give a groan. It's the boy from Madam Malkin's.

"What's it to you?" I ask.

"So it's you! I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. And that's Crabbe, and Goyle," he says. Ron barely stifles a laugh. "No need to ask who you are. Ginger hair, and hand-me-down robes! You must be a Weasley. Yoou don't want to be friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there," He says, sticking out his hand. I grab his hand and twist it as hard as I would a slam dunk. He winces.

"I think we can figure the wrong sort for ourselves, thanks," I said, giving him a fake smile. Then McGonagall enters again.

"Please follow me," she says. All of the first years follow her into a humongous hall. I did a scan to see what it was like. There were four tables, and a table at the front I assumed was for the teachers.

On a stool sat a ratty old hat. There were several rips on it. I saw one that was suspiciously mouth shaped. I look up at the ceiling. I am starlted to see it looks exactly like the sky outside.

"It's just bewitched to look like that, Jenna," Hermione says to me. "I read abou it in Hogwarts, A History."

I turned my attention back to the front. The rip that looked like a mouth began to move and sing something… horrivly, I might add.

Oh, you may not think I'm pretty

But don't judge on what you see

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

and I can cap them all!

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see

So try me on and I will tell you

where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor

Where dwell the brave at heart

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart.

You might belong in Hufflepuff

Where they are just and loyal.

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil.

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind.

Where those of wit and learning

Will always find their kind.

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make you're real friends

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands(though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!

Then Professor McGonagall walked up, and says, "When I call your name,

come up and sit on the stool and I will put the hat on your head, and you will be Sorted. Abbott, Hannah!" she says. A girl with blonde pigtails walks up and sits on the stool. McGonagall puts the hat on her head. Almost instantly, it shouts, "Hufflepuff!" Hannah walks over to sit at the table on the far right of the hall.

"Bones, Susan!"

"Hufflepuff!"

"Boot, Terry!"

"Ravenclaw!"

"Brocklehurst, Mandy!"

"Ravenclaw!"

"Brown, Lavender!"

"Gryffindor!"

"Bulstrode, Millicent!"

"Slytherin!"

On and on it goes. I watch Hermione sorted into Gryffindor. When Malfoy is called, I see the hat visibly cringe before,"Slytherin!" He gives a smug look, and goes to sit with his goons at the table on the far left.

A few minutes later, I hear:

"Potter, Harry!" McGonagall calls. I watch Harry walk up. Around me, people are whispering, 'Potter? Did she say Potter?' and stuff of that nature. The hat tooka minute to decide. It eventuaaly decides, "Gryffindor!"

I watch Harry walk over and sit near the Weasley twins and Hermione. I know who's next.

"Potter, Jenna!" McGonagall calls. I can almost hear the whole hall holding it's breath, wondering where the famous Jenna Potter will be sorted. I slowly walk up to the stool and McGonagall puts the hat on my head.

Oh, I see it's finally your turn! O-ho! I see plenty of brains. Sure sign of a Ravenclaw. I don't think I can put you in Slytherin, you are cunning, but not quite good at sneakiness.

'Hey' I protest silently. 'I kept that letter from the Dursleys!'

True. But I think that you might point your wand at that Malfoy boy, can't have that! I see plenty of courage! You'd do anything to help your brother, but your trust is hard to win. I think I'll place you in Gryffindor!"

I gave a sigh, and sat next to Harry and Hermione sitting by Fred and George Weasley. Ron was sorted into Gryffindor, and he came and sat on the other side of Harry.

Finally, with 'Zabini, Blaise' sorted into Slytherin, the sorting ended. I watched Dumbledore get up from the teacher's table.

"Before we dig in to this delicious feast, I'd like to say a few words, and here they are: Nitwit! Blubber!Odddment! Tweak!"

The hall burst into cheers and laughs. I looked at the doors, wondering where the food was going to come. I swear, one second, the trays and tureens and platters on the table were empty, and the next, they were filled with all kinds of good things. I had never been able to eat whatever I wanted, mainly because whatever I really wanted, Dudley would steal it. But there was no Dudley here, and I could eat whatever I wanted to. I filled my plate with ham, mashed potatoes, green beans, corn-on-the-cob, and smothered my poor potatoes with gravy. For my dessert, I ate some pudding, a bit of treacle tart, and a big slice of chocolate fudge cake.

Once most of us were finished, Dumbledore again stood.

"Now that we are too full to be distractedby rumbling stomachs, I have a few start of term notices to give. First years should note that the forest around the grounds is off limits, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year. Also, this term, the third floor corridor is forbidden to all who do not wish to die a most painful death," He says. I hear the oldest of Ron's brothers, Percy, saying, "I am surprised he didn't tell us prefects, we ought to know!"

Dumbledore contiued, " And now, for the school song! Pick your favorite tune, and off we go!"

The hall burst into a loud chorus of:

Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something, please.

Wether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees.

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff.

For now they're bare and full of air

Dead flies and bits of fluff.

Teach us things worth knowing

Bring back what we've forgot

Just do your best, we'll do the rest!

And larn until our brains all rot!

I sang to to that old Beatle's song, Let it be. I was kind of in the middle. I saw Fred and George singing to a very slow funeral march. They were the very last to finish. The hall was trying not to laugh as Dumbledore conducted the last few notes with his wand.

"Ah, music!"Dumbledore laments. " A magic beyond all we do here. Now, off to bed! Pip,pip!"

"First years, follow me!" Percy Weasley calls. We all follow him out the hall and through the endless corridors. I was confused when we stopped at a picture of a very fat lady.

"Password?" she asks Percy.

"Caput Draconis," states Percy. She swings open, revealing a cozy looking room with comfy couches, chairs, tables, and a roaring fire.

"Girls dorms are on the left, boys are on the right," Percy directs us. Hermione attatches herself to me, and we go up and find the dorm. We shared with three other girls: Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, and Fay Dunbar. I quicky prepared for bed, wearing a nightdress I'd bought in Diagon Alley. I fell asleep almost immediatley.


	7. Snape, and more annoying things

Me: Oh yeah! I finally got chapter six!

Hermione: Congratulations, Hey, can I ask one question, Leia?

Me: Sure, go ahead.

Hermione: Why did you have Jenna and I have twin wands?

Jenna: Yeah, I was wondering that as well!

Parvati: They have twin wands?

Me: Yes, Parvati, but that's not the point. Hermione, you'll find out. It might not be for a while, but it will come into play. Maybe it's a way to keep you safe from the Basilisk? I'm actually not sure. If anyone gets an idea, PM or review! Parvati, you want a chance to do the disclaimer?

Parvati: Sure! Leia does not own the Harry Potter series, and definitely not Parvati and I!

The next day began a whirlspin of classes. I enjoyed most of them.

Charms was cool, but by the end of our first lesson, only Hermione and I were actually paying attention. The others thought it boring to listen and not actually do anything fun yet. But I was wizard who taught it, Filius Flitwick, was only about two feet tall, so he had to stand on a pile of books to be noticed. The first time he took roll, he nearly fell off his seat in shock.

Transfiguration was by far my favorite. It involved turning things into other things! It was really cool. Hermione also enjoyed it, but I sensed that it wasn't quite as interesting as Charms.

There were also the subjects of Herbology and Astronomy. At least Astronomy was only on Wednesdays, as it was at midnight. It wasn't too bad though. That's why we needed telescopes.

Herbology was taught by a slightly fat witch named Sprout. She immediately set them to work on Puffeskeins, which looked like cotton candy, but were deadly lethal. We were to usually be in the greenhouses.

Only two subjects I could totally live without: History of Magic and Potions.

History of Magic was just plain boring. Well, it might have been interesting, if it was taught by anyone else. Profesor Binns was a ghost. The story goes that he died in an armchair, and just got up and went straight to class and taught as usual.

His lessons on goblin rebellions were conducted in a boring monotone. All ever managed to take was a few notes. I looked over at Hermione, and her parchment was full of notes.

Potions was taught by Professor Severus Snape. He was a shrewd man with greasy, slicked back black hair, and an abnormally large, hook shaped nose. I'd noticed him at the staff table the previous night. I'd looked at him, and gotten a feeling of hatred. After that, both Harry's and my scar burned. By the end of the first lesson, I realizedI had been wrong. He didn't hate us. He aboslutely loathed us.

"Put the wands away, you won't need them. As such, I don't expect you all to believe this is real magic. If you pay attention, I can teach you to brew glory, bottle fame, and even stopper death. But, I see some have come in this class thinking there is no need to pay attention!" Snape began the lesson. The comment was obviously directed at Harry, who, contrary to what he might have thought, was taking notes.

"Mr and Miss Potter. Our new...celebrities," he sneered. "Tell me, Mr. Potter, where would you look for a bezoar?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air. "Um...I dunno, sir," Harry said. I had known that.

"I see. What does powdered root of asphodel and an infusion of wormwood?" He quizzes.

"No idea," Harry says. Hermione's hand was again in the air. That was easy, even if it was hard to make.

"I see," Snape mused. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" This time, Harry merely shrugged. "Didn't think you'd look at your books this summer? Do you know, Miss Potter?" This time, it was for me.

"I do. A bezoar is a stone taken from a goat's stomach. It nullifys the effect of most minor and intermediate potions. As for asphodel and wormwood, they create the Draught of Living Death. It'll knock yoou senseless for a week, depending on how much you use. And wolfsbane and monkshood are the same plant, and it's also called aconite," I say.

"Five points from Griffindor for being a know it all, Miss Potter," Snape said. "And put your hand down, girl!" he says to Hermione.

Needless to say, I was glad once the lesson ended. Little did I know that would not be my last dealing with Severus Snape.

Hermione and I were heading back to the Gryffindor common room a week later when we saw the notice for flying lessons.

"Oooh! I can't wait to fly!" Hermione said. So was I, until I saw who we had it with.

"Yeah, but we have it with the Slytherins." I pointed out to her.

Just behind us, we heard, "Miss Potter, Miss Granger? Is there a problem?" It was the annoying drawl of Snape. I turned to face him, greasy hair and all.

"No, Professor. We're just so excited to have flying lessons with Slytherin," I easily lied.

"I see. Well...good luck," He said, and whisked down the corridor.

"I was all set for him giving us a detention," Hermione said.

"So was I. Now you see where fast thinking gets you, my dear Hermione," I said.

Apparently, Harry and Ron had gotten the news that we had flying lessons with Slytherin. That meant Malfoy. This was going to get interesting.


	8. Flying lessons? More like a death wish!

Me: So, what did you all think of that last chapter?

Malfoy: I hated it.

Jenna: I liked that I got to be snarky to Snape!

Me: I know, I planned that especially for you, Jen. Malfoy, would you like to do the disclaimer?

Malfoy: The stupid Mudblood who had the nerve to write this does not own anything in the Harry Potter series, just whatever you don't recognise from the series.

Me: Watch your mouth, Malfoy!(fires hex) Haha, who's the mudblood now? I so got him back! Here's chapter six!

The morning of the flying lessons was a nice one. Until I got to the Great Hall. Harry showed me a newspaper article. I read it:Believed to be the work of dark witches or wizards unknown, Gringotts goblins, while acknowledging the breach, insist that nothing was taken. The vault in question, number 713, had in fact been emptied earlier that same day.

"Harry, isn't that the vault that we went to? I mean, the other one?" He nodded. I remembered Hagrid's words. You'd be mad to try to rob it. Apparently, there was someone crazy enough to try.

Later, Ron, Harry, Hermione, and I quickly bounded down to the Quidditch pitch. I hadn't managed to make them all friends, but they weren't arguing… for the moment. I was very excited to learn how to fly, even if it was with Slytherin. We heard Malfoy ahead.

"It'll be a shame if I'm not on the House team next year! Even Father says so. Can you believe there are some people who have never seen a broomstick before?" he says to his mates. I hear their laughter.

When we arrive, we wait for the insructor, Madam Hooch. She hs frazzled white hair, and eyes as yellow as a hawks. I wouldn't be surprised if she could hear as well as one, either.

"Okay, let's begin. Everyone put your hand above your broom and say 'up'. 1, 2,3!" she says.

"Up!" I yell at my broom. I heard Ron call it Cleansweep 4. To my utter surprise, my comes soaring up to my hand. So does Harry's. I laugh when Ron's smacks him on the head.

"Nose down, Jenna!" Ron says. Harry and I are one of the few who's brooms come up.

"Once you've got your broom, mount it," Hooch says. I straddle mine easily. I take pride that Hooch tells Mafoy that he's been doing it wrong for years. "On three, I want you to kick off the ground hard as you can. Hover a moment, and then land again. 1...2.-"

But before she can say three, Neville panics, and flies up into the air. Hooch begins yelling at him to get beck down, but he just keeps panicing. He keeps going higher. I almost get dizzy from watching him. He makes several circles around the school.

The whole group holds it's breath as Neville's cloak catches on a pointy statue. But the cloak rips, sending him falling to the ground.

Madam Hooch shoves her way over to Neville to see what happened. She declares it a broken wrist. "And you're all to stay on the ground while I take Mr. Longbottom to the hospital wing. If I see any broom up in the air, the person riding it will be out of Hogwarts before they can say Quidditch," she says to us, leading Neville into the school.

"D'you think he'll be okay?" I asked Ron.

"Madam Pomfrey can mend bones in about a second. He'll be fine," Ron assures me. But I get distracted by Malfoy. He's got something in his hand. I look closely at it. It's Neville's Remembrall!

"Give that here, Malfoy," I demand.

"Oh, are you going to make me, Potter?" Maloy taunts.

"No, but if you don't, I promise you I can kick your butt as easily as I transfigured that q-tip last week," I said.

"Give it here, Malfoy!" Harry says, coming behind me.

"No. I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find," He says, jumping onto a broom and soaring into the air. "What's the matter, Potters? Bt beyond your reach?"

I begin to go for a broom, and Hermione tries to stop me.

"Jenna, no! You heard Madam Hooch! And plus you don't even know how to fly yet!" she said. But I had...I don't know. I just knew that I had to get that Remembrall from Malfoy, and that broomstick was going to help me. Harry and I flew up after Maloy. I heard hermione mutter, "What an idiot."

Flying...it was easy. I felt like I belonged up here.

"Give it to us, Malfoy, or I'll knock you off that broom!" I yell at him.

He looks uncertainly at the ground, before saying, "Have it your way," and throwing the remembrall as far as he could.

Harry dives after it. Just when I thought surely they'd hit the ground, he pulls out of the dive, and I see the remembrall in his hand.

"Jenna, catch!" he yelled to me. He throws the ball at me. I was about thirty feet away from him, but somehow I managed to catch it. I held it up in my hand. When Harry and I landed, the whole group of Gryffindors swarmed us, congratulating us.

I was very happy...until I heard, "Harry and Jenna Potter." I looked over to see who it was. My heart sank. Professor McGonagall was calling us. We were so expelled. Harry and I followed McGonagall through the endless corridors, stpping in front of the Charms classroom.

"May I borrow Wood for a moment?" she asks the tiny wizard.

"Of course," he replies. Instead of a piece of wood, a big fifth year boy comes out of the room.

"Harry, Jenna, this is Oliver Wood," she introduces us. "Wood, I have found you a Seeker and a Chaser!" she says to him excitedly.

"Really? What'd they do to impress you?" he asks skeptically.

"Harry caught this Remembrall after a fifty foot dive. adn pulled out just in time, and threw it to Jenna, thirty feet away, and she caught it!" McGonagall says.

"Wow! Harry, Jenna, was that your first time on a broom?" he asks us. We nod. "They're just the right build as well. Light and fast. They'll need decent broms. A Cleansweep Astro or…" He trails off, but I think I know what he was going to say. Or a Nimbus 2000. We'd passed a broom shop in Diagon Alley, and there'd been a bunch of kids admiring it.

"I'll ask Dumbledore if we can't bend the rule a little bit. And they've got to have the best brooms," McGonagall says.

"Well, we should meet later, so I can explain the game and see if you're team

material,"Wood says. "Seven o'clock on the pitch?" We nod, and Wood goes back into the classroom.

"I'd suggest you go to your common room. No doubt your friends are worried I have expelled you,"McGonagall says, and sweeps off down the hallway

"Harry, did we make the Quidditch team?" I asked confused.

"Yes, Jenna, I think we did." Harry said.

We raced each other to the Fat Lady.

"Pumpkin Pasty," I say.

"That's right!" she says, opening up. I notice Ron is waiting on the couch.

"They can't expell you! It wasn't-" He began, but the look on our faces must have told him to shut up.

"We're not being expelled, Ron," I say to him. "McGonagall thought we were so good, and she put us on the Quidditch team!"

"Whoa! That's wicked, first years don't make the team. You've got to be the youngest players in-"

"A century, Jenna told me," Harry said. "We've got to meet Wood later."

Then, Fred and George come in.

"Congrats, Harry, Jenna!" one of them, I think it's Fred. Yep, if I look closely, There's a bit of green in his blue eyes, wheras George just has plain blue.

"Wood's just told us," said George. they seem super excited. So am I. I can't wait to learn Quidditch!


	9. Jenna Potter, Gryffindor Chaser

Me: I'm still looking for any ieas of something that could make Hermione and Jenna's situation plausible? PM me!

Jenna: I can't wait to learn Quidditch!

Hermione: I heard it's a bit like basketball.

Ron: What's basketball?

Me: Seriously, Ron! Get with the times! Jenna? Disclaimer?

Jenna: Leia does not own the Harry Potter phenomenon. J.K Rowling does.

During dinner, most of the first years looked surprised to see Harry and I.

"Enjoying a last meal, Potter?" Malfoy taunts.

"Seem a lot braver whn your friends are with you, don't you Malfoy?" I say.

After dinner, Harry and I race down to the pitch. Wod is coming from the other side, struggling with a trunk that looks really heavy.

"Okay. Quidditch is easy to understand, even if it's not as easy to play. This," he says, opening the trunk and pulling out a bright red ball, which also seems to be the biggest one. "Is the Quaffle. There are three Chasers, one being you, Jenna, the others being Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson. You use the Quaffle to gain points by shooting them through the goal posts. I'm the Keeper. I hover the other team's hoops, trying to keep the from scoring. Then there's the Bludgers." He hands us each a short bat. "You might need that," he says, opening the box once again, and unchaining a black ball. It shoots up into the air. Just before it can land and hit me, I smack it hard with the bat. When it lands again, it's near Wood. He tackles it and relocks it. "Hm. You'd make a fair Beater, Jenna."

"What was that?" I asked.

"Bludger. They try to knock you off your broom, and it's the Beaters jobs to keep them from the other team. We have the Weasley twins as ours," Wood says

"What happens if they do knock us off?" Harry asks.

"Well, if you can, get back on. But it doesn't happen often,"He says. "The Weasleys can handle some Bludgers. And last, this," he holds up a small golden ball about the size of a golf ball. "The Golden Snitch. You have to catch it Harry. When you do, you win 150 points for Gryffindor. Which usually means you'll win."

"I like this ball," Harry grins.

"Ah, you like it now! Its incredibly fast and damn near impossible to see." Wood says. "Any questions?"

"No. It's kind of like basketball, except the hoops are fifty feet high, we play on broomsticks, and there's ball that attack us." I say.

"What's bsketball?"

"Jenna, he doesn't know about basketball," Harry mutters to me.

"Oh. Sorry, nevermind!" I say. "No questions."

"Good. Because we've got a game in three weeks, against Slytherin.

A.N/ Just so you know, I was venting my fury because I finally got on Pottermore today, and I was Sorted into Slytherin! For all you pro- Gryffindors, don't worry. Now I know what they mean when they said that not all Slytherins were bad. My name's SickleErised12848.


	10. I become possessed by the future

The three weeks we had to practice dwindled quickly. I was a pretty decent player. The other chasers, Katie and Angelina, were both older than me, but I was just as good as they were. I thanked my lucky stars I understood basketball, because this was very similar.

Three days before the game, a large parcel landed before me. Romy, my pretty owl, landed beside me. I gave her a bite of toast. Then I turned my attention to the parcels that Harry and I had recieved. I read the letter first.

Jenna,

DO NOT OPEN THIS NOW! It is your new Nimbus Two Thousand broomstick. Take good care of it. After all, we all want a Gryffindor win, do we not?

Sincerely

Minerva McGonagall

Harry and I raced to the common room and then ripped off the wrappings. Sure enough, it was a broomstick, but it wasn't some kitchen tool either. There was a full tail of fresh sticks, a mahogany handle, and right on the end of the handle: Nimbus Two Thousand.

"Whoa!" Harry said under his breath.

"That's right, little bro!" I joke. He tries to jab at me, but I sidestep out of the way. "And that's why I'm the Chaser, and you're not."

"We're twins!" He protests.

"Yeah, but I was born first," I point out.

"So?"

"Never mind. What say you we go and see how good these fly?" I suggest. Harry heartily agrees, so we race out to the Quidditch pitch.

We mount the brand new brooms, and race around the field. I find an old Quaffle and practice a few goals. Every shot I take makes it. Just as we're about to fly down and head in for dinner, I'm not seeing the field. I'm in a dark room. I see two people. One is a person who looks vaguely familiar. I realise with a start why. He looks like Malfoy. This must be his father.

The other is a total stranger. It's a little girl, not much younger than Ginny Weasley. She has black hair like Harry's and mine, but she has light blue eyes. Her clothes are tattered, and she has a long cut on her forehead.

"Why don't you tell us about your brother? After all, I'm sure we'll be encountering him soon when he comes to save you," Mr. Malfoy asks her.

"No way. I'll never tell you a thing about Neville! And he'll find me here. After all, your house isn't much of a fortress" she says angrily. I realise who this is. It has to be Neville's sister. I'm shocked, since Neville's never mentioned anything about having a sister. I admire her though. She must have some real guts to talk to someone like Mr. Malfoy like that.

"Won't you?" Mr. Malfoy drawls. "Well, maybe a little pain will loosen your tongue. Crucio!"

She goes stiff as a board, but shows no sign that she will scream. I know she must be in terrible pain, though. After about a minute of this, he quits. The small girl slumps onto the ground.

"Why don't you kill me? You'd be out of here before anyone found you," she gasps between pants.

"Oh, I will...sometime. But first you'll tell me about your brother. How close is he to those Potter brats?" Malfoy sneers evilly.

"I'm not telling you a thing, you Death Eater wannabe!" she yells, finally getting her breath.

Fed up, Malfoy calls, "Take her to the cell. I'll call for her again later."

A squat man comes and grabs the girl, wrapping her hands with a length of rope. He leads her out.

Then I'm back at the pitch. Harry's on the ground, his wand pointed at me. He must have kept me from falling when I zoned out. I quickly land, and begin running back to the castle.

"Jenna, what happened?" Harry demands.

"I just saw a little girl being tortured by some man who I think is Draco Malfoy's father. He was asking about Neville. She's Neville's sister. We have to tell McGonagall" I say. I speed as fast as I can. I don't think I've ever ran so fast, not even whe it's ten seconds till the buzzer rings and I'm trying to make a final shot to win. I'm out of breath by the time we reach McGonagall's office.

"Mr and Miss Potter, what is the meaning of this?" McGonagall demands.

" I just saw Neville Longbottom's sister being tortured by Draco Malfoy's father. I think they're at his house." I say out of breath.

McGonagall puts down her quill. "When exactly did you see Miss Longbottom?" she asks.

"It was just a minute ago, whe we were on the pitch. We decided to test out our brooms. I guess… I dunno. But he's going to do the same thing in a few hours or so, he said."I answer. "Professor McGonagall, we have to find her."

"And we will. But first we must inform Mr. Longbottom and his grandmother."

"Yes ma'am," I say. "Come on, Harry, let's find Neville."

We find him in the Gryffindor common room. He and Ron are playing a game of Exploding Snap.

"Neville, we have some bad news," I say.

"Aw man! I was just about to win!" he complains.

"Forget the game! You're sister's been kidnapped!" I yell at him. That gets his attention.

"W-what? Faith's been kidnapped? I'm sure Gran'd have written…"

But before he can finish, an owl flies in. "Leaper?" Neville takes the letter from the owl's claws, and reads the note aloud. "Neville, your sister is missing. She went to the river to look at the fish, and she's not back yet. I will write as soon as I know more. Love, Gran. Oh, no! We have to tell McGonagall!"

"I already did, Neville," I said. Then, the potrait door opens, and Percy enters.

"Ah, here you are," he says. "McGonagall asked me to tell you to come to her office. She said you can come too, Ron, Hermione."

Without another word, we run through the portrait hole and to McGonagall's office.

"There you are!" she says in relief. "Dumbledore would like to see you in his office."

We follow her to a statue of a stone gargoyle.

"How-" Neville begins.

"Lemon drops," McGonagall says. The statue moves, revealing a set of stone steps. We quickly go up them, and enter the office.

"There you are. Thank you for getting them here, Minerva," Dunmbledore says. "Now, if you would excuse us?"

Taking the hint, McGonagall exits the room.

"What did you want to tell us, professor?" Hermione asks.

"As you all know, Faith Longbottom has been kidnapped. What I called you here for is the reason that Jenna saw it."

"Yes, why did I see it?" I ask.

"That is, I believe, because you are a Seer, Jenna," Dumbledore says.

"I'm sorry, what now?" I ask confusedly. "I'm a Seer?"

"Yes, Jenna. And I assume a powerful one, if you could see all that." Dumbledore says.

"But how can we find Faith?" Neville demands. I've never seen him this fired up about anything. And I can't help but notice that aside from the fact that he's a little pudgy, Neville is quite handsome. Stop it, Jen! You can't think about that now. We have to find Faith!

"I have informed the Head of thr Auror Department, Rufus Scrimgeour, about the present situation. He is sending some Aurors to Malfoy Manor on a rescue mission," Dumbledore informs us.

"What are Aurors?" Harry asks.

"Dark-wizard catchers," Ron says.

"Indeed, Mr. Weasley. Aurors find and arrest bad witches and wizards. And they are highly qualified people. Only a few get in each year. And I'm certain they can rescue Miss Longbottom," he answers Harry. "Now, I suggest you three go to your common rooms to wait. I will inform you of when we rescue Faith."

Neville looks about to protest, but Hermione and I pull him along back to the common room. "Miss Potter, could I speak to you privately?"

"Of course. Make sure he doesn't do anything rash, Hermione," I say, returning to the front of his desk.

"I would like to answer any questions you may have about being a Seer."

"Well, er, why didn't I ever have these visions before?" I ask.

"Oh, that's an easy question. Seers don't come into their powers until they are of Hogwarts age, which is to say, eleven. That explains why you never had the visions before now." Dumbledore explains.

"I see," I say. Suddenly, I go rigid, and black out. When I come to, Dumbledore is looking at me as if I'd done nothing more consequential than tie my trainers. "What just happened?" I demand.

"Oh, I believe you just made a prophecy." Dumbledore says.

"A prophecy? But I didn't say anything," I protest.

"That would be customary," he says back. " The maker of the prophecy wouldn't remember making it. I, however, do. You said:

The Chosen One cannot win alone

His friends are the ones who will help.

The Sister, his only family

The Brains, his friend and verifier

The Helper, his first friend, and best.

The Herpetologist, loyal and true.

The Justifier, his comfort and help

The Kind, who can help him anytime

The Dreamer, always the one to find a way

Beware, though, that should one perish

The whole effort will be for naught,

And the Dark Lord will return, as powerful as before.

"That is the prophecy you said," Dumbledore says.

"Who's the Chosen One?" I ask.

"For that, we must see a different prophecy, made eleven years ago." He says. " That is this: The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he shall have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. "This was made by Sibyl Trelawney, our Divination teacher here at Hogwarts. She has no knowledge, and I must ask you not to tell her. As for the meaning of the words, I think the Chosen One is you very own brother, Harry."

"How is that possible? Harry can't be the one to kill Voldemort!" I protest.

"It all fits. He was born at the end of July, the seventh month. Your parent's, being Aurors, had in fact, defeated him three times previously. Little did he know that when he caused those scars, he was ensuring his own destruction. He marked him as the only one who could end him," Dumbledore explains.

" But what about the last part? Neither can live while the other survives?" I ask.

"I think that is obvious. Either Harry kills Voldemort, or Voldemort kills him."

"Oh. And what about my prophecy?" I ask. " It says that some of our friends are going

to help?"

"I'd actually like to hear your thoughts on that, Jenna," Dumbledore says.

"Well, obviously the Sister is me. The Brains is obviously Hermione, she's the smartest in our year. The Helper is probably Ron. I dunno who the others are, though," I say.

"Very good Jenna. Might I suggest Neville and Faith? From what I hear, Neville has an aptitude for Herbology. And Faith is very kind and nice, according to him." Dumbledore says. "She could very well be the Kind. As for the Justifier and the Dreamer, I'm just as stumped as you are. " Dumbledore says.

"That sounds fine, professor. And the last part? I think it means that if any of us mentioned die or something, Harry can't defeat Voldemort," I say. Dumbledore nods approvingly.

"You may go to your common room, Jenna. I would ask you to keep this conversation as private as possible," He says. "You may, of course, tell your friends of your prophecy, but try to keep Trelawney's secret as long as possible." With that, I'm clearly dismissed.

When I arrive at the common room, I'm not surprised to see the others waiting for me.

"What did Dumbledore want?" Harry asks me.

"He was just telling me a bit about my abilities as a Seer. He answered quite a few questions," I said. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. "I blacked out, and when I came to, he said I'd given a prophecy. It goes like this:

The Chosen One cannot win alone

His friends are the ones who will help.

The Sister, his only family

The Brains, his friend and verifier

The Helper, his first friend, and best.

The Herbologist, loyal and true.

The Justifier, his comfort and help

The Kind, who can help him anytime

The Dreamer, always the one to find a way

Beware, though, that should one perish

The Dark Lord will return, as powerful as before.

"Well," said Hermione. "Who are these people?"

"Uh, well, I'm the Sister, obviously. I think that you're the Brains, Hermione. Ron, you're the Helper. Dumbledore thinks that you're the Herbologist, Neville, and that Faith is the Kind. I'm lost on the other two," I say.

"Well, maaybe Ginny's the Justifier. She's good at that stuff, consoling and stuff. And Ginny's friend Luna Lovegood could be the Dreamer. She's always talking about wierd creatures and stuff." Ron said.

"Not bad, Ron," Harry said. " No wonder you're the Helper. But who's this Chosen One?"

"Dumbledore thought it was you Harry," I said. He gaped at me.

"What?" he says, confused. "I'm the one who has to defeat him? Why?"

"I can't tell you, but you have to trust me," I say. I give him my best puppy-dog look.

"All right. But, guess what we ran into on our way back?" Harry asks. "A giant three-headed dog!"

* * *

Jenna: So now I'm a Seer? And what about that three headed dog Harry mentioned? Is that Fluffy?

Me: Yes. Now go save Faith before I hex you into when Voldemort was powerful!

Harry: All right, all right, calm down. She was just asking.

Me: Whatever. I do not own Harry Potter, no matter how much I might wish.


	11. AN! Very important, please read!

Okay, there was a problem with the story. I had it typed and ready to post the final chapters of the story, but I couldn't get on my computer, and when I finally did, it had deleted everything that I had typed from when I last posted. Because I am too lazy to retype it, I will continue with Chamber of Secrets.

BUT... if you can convince me, I _will _retype it. Mind, it will be very slowly, as I am pretty busy and lazy right now. Or, I can continue with the rest, but anyone who wants to know what was supposed to happen, just PM me and I will tell you. How is that? I will give everyone until next Wednesday to review and message me, and then I will make my decision.

Leia!


	12. I am sad

Okay, I know I am two days late on my due date for people to decide, and NO ONE HAS REVEIWED! This is making me sad, and so I m going to post the beginning chapters of my next story either today at lunch or Monday. I really love reviews, and the make me want to continue. So, I am sorry to those who actually liked my stories(Hermione Granger1997! Thanks, Kaelin!) but I am going to quit on DWtD.

Leia!


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